Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [128]
“I am,” Bill said, and Brady got the impression that was their stock joke.
When Brady shook Bill’s hand, the man’s eyes bored into his and made him look away. “You’re welcome here,” Bill said. “You do your part, and we promise to do ours.”
The men were led inside and introduced to other staff, who appeared to be mostly just custodial or clerical. A few other men milled about, some sweeping, one mopping, and they seemed happy enough.
Brady noticed that Bill never left Jan’s side as she asked the four newcomers to follow her upstairs. “We like to give each of our new guests their own small room after you’ve been living in a steel dorm for so long,” she said. “The bathroom is down the hall. Be considerate and work out with the others when you want to use it.”
Brady liked being called a guest. But he was getting antsier for some dope. His last taste of meth had been just before he processed out, and that was too long ago. He had come prepared to fight through his cravings and start right in on staying straight, but just then he would have done any drug in sight.
As if he could read Brady’s mind, Bill waggled a finger and beckoned him to follow. He showed Brady to his room, no bigger than a cell at County, but with a wire-meshed window, drapes, a nice pastel yellow on the walls, a single bed, and a chair and desk. There was also a small closet. “I know you haven’t got anything to store in there yet, but you will.”
Brady couldn’t stand still.
“Listen, Darby, you suffering?”
“Yeah.”
“What’ve you been on?”
“Meth.”
“At County?”
Brady nodded.
“That’s the good news. You weren’t likely getting good stuff, so you might have it a little easier. We got something that can help. You need it right now?”
“Unless you want me to go out that window, yes, sir.”
“All right, settle in here and I’ll be back to get you.”
“Settle in?”
“Just get used to your surroundings. Bet it’s been a while since you’ve been in a room by yourself.”
“Try five years.”
“There you go. Just take a breather. I’ll be right back, I promise. I know what you’re going through.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. Drugs? I did ’em all, pal.”
“You serve time?”
“Time was my middle name.”
“How long you been straight, sir?”
“Coming up on ten years. And call me Bill.”
“Thanks. And your wife? Same history?”
“Not even close. I met her in a house like this one. She’s a social worker, been straight and sober her whole life. Got me cleaned up, then got me into this work. Nothing better. This succeeds, man, if you do your part, as I say.”
“Think I can find a wife here?”
Bill laughed. “You never know. ’Course our guests are all men, but when we have group sessions, we get a mix of all kinds from the outside. Keep your eyes open. Just remember, the worst love combination of all is two addicts.”
Brady opened the drapes all the way and squinted into the sun. He raised the window. Wow. Except for the wire mesh, it was nice.
He opened his envelope and spread the contents on the desk. It was good to just sit and read something, even if it wasn’t much, just stuff about the halfway house. It said that Bill and Jan were in charge and pretty much handled everything—the counseling, the classes, all that. And they had all kinds of orbital professional personnel to help with physical and mental issues.
Brady was so used to doing what he was told, going only where he was allowed, and keeping his nose clean that he wasn’t sure he should even venture out of his room. He just wanted to wander down the hall and check out the bathroom. He hoped it had a nice shower. Did he dare?
He poked his head out and looked both ways. No one was around. He crept toward the bathroom, feeling free but also nervous. Could he get in trouble for this? Bill had told him to wait, that he would be right back. But Brady would be able to hear him coming up the stairs.
The bathroom proved plain but big, and the shower looked great. He would enjoy that.
When Brady heard footsteps on the stairs, he rushed back to his room, getting there just as Bill appeared. “Sorry, man,” Brady